


I'll Ask No Leave of Thee

by fictionfinding



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Ballad 39: Tam Lin, Escape, Fairy Tale Elements, Kink Meme, M/M, Rescue Missions, World of Ruin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 20:27:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12712362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionfinding/pseuds/fictionfinding
Summary: When the party arrives in the Crystal chamber to find Noct missing, Ardyn throws down a challenge for Ignis to rescue the King's Shield before the passing of a year and a day.





	I'll Ask No Leave of Thee

The steel walkway sang loudly beneath their feet as they ran to the chamber where the crystal was kept. Ignis followed the others at a more careful pace, doing his best to keep up. The metal was smooth and flat beneath his shoes, but he didn’t yet have full confidence of motion without visual aid and he kept his short cane extended out before him, inadequate though it was. He heard the gasps of the others, the heaviness of the abrupt stop of their boots on the grating, Gladio’s warning to stay back, Prompto’s questioning noises, little motions back and forth as though they were searching, and then came the reason for it all.

The Chancellor’s voice broke through the sounds made by his companions, a silky, unsettling sound, and as he spoke the tap of his feet, the rustling of fabric, indicated his movement towards them. “You’ll not find your king here,” Ardyn said, full of smug mirth. 

Ignis’ heart seized with alarm, wondering what he could mean. It was mere seconds before the sound of a summoned weapon followed upon the Chancellor’s words. Ignis heard Gladio’s growl of rage, the slicing of his greatsword through the air, but no fall or cry accompanied its stroke. The summoning sound came once again, from two directions this time, and a gunshot rang out—Gladio giving up his sword as Prompto fired, how strange. Ignis heard the abrupt sound of a body falling upon the catwalk, felt the vibrations it sent along under his feet, heard Prompto return his gun to the armiger, and something drop—much quieter, closer to him, but what he couldn’t tell. The scent of tar—or was it oil?—that foul daemon smell that plagued this keep, that had plagued Ravus in his reanimated form, rose up from where the Chancellor had fallen, and the absence of the scent of blood, of viscera, prepared Ignis better for the shock of what happened next than the others. He heard Prompto and Gladio’s bewildered shouts as the Chancellor rose from the floor, reeking of daemon scent, and walked past him. Ignis only remained very still, trying to piece it all together as best he could. The crystal was ahead of them, the Chancellor behind, and Noct was nowhere to be found.

“You’re not getting away that easily,” Gladio said, raging as he tore past Ignis, ready to seize Ardyn and demand answers or perhaps take revenge for everything that had happened, however senseless it was seeing what their actions had come to. Ignis tensed as he felt the vacuum feeling of magic being called upon, and then suddenly released. The strangled sounds he heard were undoubtedly Gladio and there was that feeling again of someone falling, hard, upon the walkway. His heart stuttered.

Prompto was still behind him, his gun in hand once more as he growled, “You bastard,” at the monster before them. He fell just as quickly to the magic, before he’d even fired. Now Ignis alone was standing, Gladio’s fallen form upon the walkway the only thing between him and the Chancellor, unsure whether all his companions were dead or alive. His heart was beating out of his chest, but he made no move to summon his weapons. They’d serve him no better than the others. The only place he could meet equally with the Chancellor at this moment was in the battle of words.

“Your friends have fallen beyond sight,” Ardyn’s voice rang out. “Whatever shall you do?”

“What I must,” said Ignis. “Where is Noct?”

“Little did you poor boys fathom, the purpose of the crystal,” said Ardyn. “Like the Big Bad Wolf it’s gone and eaten him up.” Ignis’ breath hitched, and Ardyn seemed amused by it. “Oh, but the Draconian will carve him back out again, that’s how this fairy tale goes, no? But you’ll have a long time to wait, I should think, before your dear charge returns home from the woods.”

Ignis did not dignify his goading with a response.

“I do love a good fairy tale, don’t you? Such stories pass the time on dark nights like these,” Ardyn said with a cynical laugh. It echoed about the room where the only other sounds to be heard were the swishing of fabric as he made gestures to no audience and the faint hum of electricity around the keep. “It occurs to me the two of us might play a game while we wait, to make the night less long.”

Ignis tried to shut the memory of Altissia out. “The others—” he began, but Ardyn cut him off.

“Alive, for the moment. How kind of you to spare a thought. Perhaps they too shall play some part,” Ardyn said, walking closer to Ignis like a predator circling. “It comes to me that of all nights your princeling should enter the Crystal, this was a special one in my time, an eve of great power, that we called the Vesper Phasmae. It was believed that during the Phasmalia the ghosts of the dead returned to earth, seeking the pleasures of the living, attempting to rob them of their place, or came walking amongst us unaware of their ephemeral nature. This very evening was the apex of the permeability between worlds, one which came to a close on the sacred dawn of the Dies Phasmae when the dead were returned with honour to the afterlife. Truly fitting, is it not?”

Ignis swallowed but kept silence for he knew Ardyn was a man of winding ways in his words and had not yet come to where he intended.

“A king without retainers and retainers without a king,” Ardyn said, “such a tragedy, and hardly befitting the Chosen King of legend. In the old tales, you would be punished for such a thing, and oh, the possibilities those stories open up to us.” Ignis could feel the stroke of Ardyn’s hand upon his cheek, just below the wound. Ardyn had once spoke to him of legends before he rained darkness down upon him. Ignis struggled to maintain composure as the hand withdrew. 

“Here is what we shall do,” Ardyn said, walking to where Gladio had fallen, “As a punishment for the retainers who failed to protect their king, I’ll take the Shield with me.”

Ignis’ mouth dropped open, although he did not speak, trying to appear firm and poised in the face of Ardyn’s threats. 

“Come to me where I’ll in Crown City wait, if you dare, before the passing of a year and a day—the Dies Phasmae,” Ardyn spoke, the sweeping of his robes audible in the lonely silence of the chamber. “Yours is the choice, to risk all or naught, and if you risk all and cannot win him back, I fancy you’ll take his place—although I do not think he will be what you left him.”

Ardyn came closer once more, enough that Ignis felt the exhale of his breath against his cheek, the daemon reek repugnant at this distance. “If I’m any judge of fools,” Ardyn whispered sotto voce, “I’ll be expecting you…and leave the malfunction behind. One of you needs to greet the Chosen King when he returns.”

There was the vacuum feeling of magic again and then Ignis was lost to consciousness. He did not sleep or dream, he only knew what had passed upon him when he felt the shaking force of Prompto’s hands, and the pleas of, “Ignis, Ignis, wake up. Come on. Please. Wake up.”

He slowly stirred, befuddled by the lingering after-effects of Ardyn’s magic, but his increasing awareness clearly soothed Prompto, who suddenly wrapped his arms around him in an embrace.

“You’re okay, thank god,” said Prompto, squeezing him before abruptly letting go, realizing this was not something either of them usually did. “Sorry, it’s—”

“Understandable, given the circumstances,” Ignis said, cutting him off. He reached out to put a hand on his shoulder briefly before dropping it. After what Prompto had endured at Ardyn’s hands, simple human contact was no doubt reassuring. 

It must have served some use, as Prompto’s next words were less frantic, although the worry was still deeply present. “Iggy,” he said quietly, “Gladio’s gone. He wasn’t here when I woke up and I still don’t know what that guy did to Noct. And you didn’t see it, but he’s not human.”

“No,” Ignis said as he raised his hand to his left temple, feeling a pain there that had become a periodic visitor since his injury, “but he might have been once. He spoke of things far in the past that even I knew not from the historical records in Insomnia.”

“You talked?” asked Prompto.

“While you and Gladio were out. He’s taken Gladio.” Prompto took a sudden breath, but Ignis continued despite how his own apprehension wished to weigh him down, “Noct, as I understand it, is inside the Crystal.”

“That’s not here either,” Prompto said in a low tone.

“I might have guessed,” Ignis sighed. He took a moment to take stock, before laying out the reality of these ends. “Noct, for the moment, is beyond us,” he said, exhaling slowly as he gathered himself and tried to push down the haunting feeling of having failed his duty, his purpose, yet again. He swallowed and pushed onwards. “But he is also beyond the Chancellor, I think, and we shall have to trust the Crystal to keep him safe. That accursed rock may not hold the salvation we hoped for, but it is the gift of the gods to the Lucis Caelum line, and while I don’t know the game the Chancellor is playing, it has never, from the outset, been to kill Noct as he is.”

“You, you sure?”

Ignis nodded. “He seems to be waiting for something Noct will become—perhaps something the Crystal will guide Noct to. It is the only way I can see sense in his actions all this time. He spoke of the Draconian awaiting Noct, though how he knows that I cannot guess. We will have to leave that matter to trust for the moment, until we can learn more and bring the Crystal back into our possession. But his game with Gladio lies clearly before us.”

“Yeah?” Prompto said. Promises of Noct’s safety had no doubt brought him some reassurance but in his next words Ignis would have to tread delicately.

“Yes,” Ignis said. “He’s taken him captive, along with the Crystal, doubtless, and made for Insomnia. He’s given me a year to come to him although I don’t know what plot he has cooked up for when I arrive.”

“When we arrive, you mean,” Prompto said, punching him lightly on the shoulder.

“No,” Ignis said, bowing his head. He heard Prompto’s quiet gasp, some mix of shock or horror. “He expressly forbade your coming, and, as hard as it is to believe I am saying this, I’m inclined to agree,” Ignis said. “He wishes one of us to be there for Noct when he returns.”

“So you’re just going to leave me behind?” Prompto asked, his tone vacillating between angry and insecure.

“Prompto, I fully intend to welcome Noct back myself, next to you and Gladio, when the day comes, but there’s no point in not being cautious. I need you to stay somewhere Noct can safely find you while I confront the Chancellor on his territory and terms.”

“Okay, but then couldn’t I just take your place?” Prompto said. “With things how they are now, you’re—”

“Incapable?” Ignis asked.

“No! Not what I meant,” Prompto said vehemently.

“There’s no need to deny it,” Ignis cut him off before he could say more. “Don’t you see that’s the very reason the Chancellor chose this task for me? It would seem impossible to fulfill as I am.”

“But I can’t just let you go and do this by yourself. And Gladio, what would Gladio think?” Prompto said, which was a low blow as far as Ignis was concerned. Prompto kept going, “He’d hate this. He wouldn’t want you to risk everything to—”

“Rescue the man I love?” Ignis said, trying to take things lightly, hoping they could simply move past the topic since it wasn’t up for debate. Ignis would go and that was the end of it. “I’m sure it’s what he’s always wanted. Like something out of those dreadful romances of his.”

“Ugh, Ignis, I know you’re trying to make me feel better, but I do actually know what you’re doing,” Prompto said. Ignis may not have been able to see his expression, but memory served well, and he could see the annoyed pout, brows turned downward in frustration and determination to be taken seriously. 

He might respect that Prompto was less easily led than before, but he had long practice with Noct in dealing with these kinds of conflicts and so he drew himself up, addressing Prompto candidly but with authority. “Look, Prompto,” Ignis said, “Noct and Gladio are both gone. Noct we can only wait for news of. Gladio I have been given one opportunity to save, and that window narrows with the passing of each hour. I cannot have your help when I face Ardyn’s challenge, but I am going to need your assistance more than ever in the coming days. We are in an enemy land, overrun with daemons, far from home and I haven’t half the knowledge, power or skill I had before to navigate it. I will need you to not only be my eyes or to guide me through rough terrain, I will need to you to take the lead in every battle, to scavenge food in places where no humans are, to gather information beyond what I can hear, to not abandon me when the dangers become overwhelming, unless I should ask. I will need you to be Gladio and I will need you to be me, in the matters I cannot be right now. I know what I am asking of you is not light. But can you do that?”

There was a long silence before Prompto gave any answer although Ignis knew him well enough to know what it would be. 

“You betcha,” Prompto said at last, his bravado only thinly covering the sincere emotion beneath. He was still a young man easily overwhelmed by the trust of companions he feared himself inferior to. “If that’s what we have to do, I’ll do that. You can count on me.”

“Then so I shall,” said Ignis, reaching for the slanted barrier of the catwalk to help guide him to stand. “We should move out. This keep is a dangerous place and nothing better awaits us outside of it.”

“Hold up, there’s just one stipulation I have,” said Prompto as he grabbed Ignis’ free hand and pressed his cane into it.

“And what’s that?” Ignis asked.

“FYI, I’m not abandoning you even if you do ask,” Prompto said, patting him on the back and moving down the catwalk towards the elevator.

“We’ll cross that bridge should we come to it,” Ignis said. “In the meantime, I don’t know how well-apprised you are of these facilities—”

“Not very,” Prompto said.

“But we need some basic supplies if we’re to survive out there,” Ignis continued, undeterred. “Although the empire invested heavily in Magitek troops, the researchers here were human if those dormitories were any indication. There must be supply areas in this keep of one form or another. If you can find them and get us in, we stand a better chance in our travels.”

“What about all our gear in the Regalia? Is it still on the train?” Prompto asked as he guided Ignis into the elevator and pressed the button to head down.

“The Regalia is no more,” Ignis said, regret laced in his tone. “With the damage I understand she took getting here, I doubt we could salvage anything from it. Certainly not without the right tools.”

“Oh, wow,” Prompto said with sorrow, taking in the news for the first time. “She’s really gone?”

“I’m afraid so,” said Ignis.

It was a long moment before Prompto spoke again. “Well, the cells were pretty empty so I don’t know about supply areas—”

“Could you lead us back to one of the dormitories?” Ignis asked. “It’s possible there would be some form of supplies stored there. If not, they should at least be nearby.”

“You got it, Captain,” Prompto said, his voice dropping an octave as they stepped out of the elevator on the lower level.

Ignis paused for a moment, and sighed loudly, before saying, “Prompto, when I said I needed you to, so to speak, ‘be Gladio’, I did not mean—”

“I get it. I get it. Just wanted to try it once, Igster,” Prompto said, voice returning back to his normal register. Despite the weighty prospects facing them, the smile was obvious. He tapped Ignis’ arm and started walking down the hall, Ignis keeping pace behind until they arrived at a dormitory. Once there, Prompto began listing off the things he found in the closets and storage spaces, while Ignis declared whether they’d be of use. 

“We can’t take more than we can reasonably carry. Frankly, I don’t know how we’ll manage this walking to begin with,” Ignis admitted, working through the logistics in his head as Prompto assembled the gear he’d picked out. “The train tracks will lead us right out, but there won’t be any trains upon them now, not leaving.”

“Sounds like a long haul,” Prompto said.

“If you’ve need of rest, I’d advise you take it now,” Ignis said, aware that Prompto’s recent experiences were far harsher than the rest of theirs. 

He heard Prompto throw himself down onto a bed. “Just give me a moment for a breather and I’ll be good,” Prompto said. Ignis heard him pull out his phone and unlock it. “Still no reception.” 

“There was probably a blackout imposed when the lockdown began,” Ignis said, recalling the messages broadcast throughout the keep. “Radio messages are being transmitted locally, but it’s likely the government shut down outside contact in order to control information flow about the crisis,” Ignis said. 

“And how many people died, for that?” Prompto mused quietly. Ignis could hear him put the phone away. “Pro’lly doesn’t make a difference for us anyway. The only person who could save us out here is Aranea, and I was never so lucky to get her number. She’s probably sick of saving my ass anyway.”

“We should make for Tenebrae,” Ignis said, contemplating their options. “Assuming we can survive the journey, it’s our best chance of getting out of Niflheim. Even if Aranea’s left, tourists were flooding in to pay respects to Lady Lunafreya there. Zoldara Henge won’t have access beyond chartered airships, but if we can get out to the coasts, Pagla, maybe, there might well be boats taking people out.”

“Are people safe in Tenebrae for now?” Prompto asked.

“No,” Ignis said, thinking back to their brief stop outside Fenestala Manor. “There’s also tell of rogue imperial soldiers massacring the Niflheim citizenry.”

“No way,” Prompto said.

“You remember that armoury where we lost you? That seems to be the base from which they’re pouring out. Neither Tenebrae nor Eastern Niflheim is safe.”

“And Western Niflheim completely turned. All those people,” Prompto said.

“A dire state of things.”

“Yeah. Well, I’m good. This talk is not making me wanna stay,” Prompto said, picking himself up off the bunk.

“Let us strike out then,” Ignis said, feeling for the pack he would carry and awaiting the sound of Prompto’s feet and the jangling of his belt chain preceding him.

They got down one corridor before Prompto was shoving him into a crawlspace as the steely footfalls of a magitek axeman echoed down the hallway.

“Just a sec,” Prompto whispered. Ignis wanted to tell him it was unnecessary, but he hardly wished to exacerbate the problem, and instead held his tongue until the axeman was well past.

“Let’s go!” Prompto stage-whispered. “There’s an elevator ahead.”

They took it down, but the exit was apparently not obvious as Prompto hesitated. “There’s a big door that way,” he said dubiously.

“We might as well try,” said Ignis.

No sooner had they entered than the bone rattling of reapers and their skeleton minions caught Ignis’ ear, and they were forced to do battle with only the two of them, Gladio’s might and Noctis’ powers sorely missed. Never mind his vision, for that matter, Ignis thought even as he held his own, blocking attacks with his cane while he listened to the movement of the bones and their croaking laughter to decide where he targeted the next slash of his dagger. Prompto’s starshells were bright enough he could register when they were unleashed and he took advantage of the blinding light to lay the creature before him to waste. Oh, the irony of it, he thought.

Prompto’s movements could be heard only a few feet away, bringing out his gravity well that sucked up the skeletons into one area. With renewed focus, Ignis attacked a pair of skeletons, taking off one skull and then another, while Prompto fired bullets into the other enemies without hesitation.

When the fire of Prompto’s gun put to rest the last of the reapers, they breathed a sigh of relief. This was hardly the most challenging of battles either them would face as they made their way out, Ignis thought, the daemons of Zegnautus rampant and the malfunctioning soldiers not limited to the keep. Their limits would be tested further, he fretted. Before he could ask any questions of their surroundings, Prompto interrupted his train of thought.

“Hey, Iggy,” Prompto said, sounding excited for the first time in what seemed a very long while.

“Yes?”

“We’re in a hangar, and I know we’ve been thinking about trekking our way back, but uh, I think I could probably use my code to get us into one of the MA-X units.”

How brilliant, Ignis thought. “Well, by all means,” he said.

“Let’s get down there and give this a go!” Prompto said, hurrying over to a lift. Another battle awaited them as they reached the lower level, a nasty brace of snagas, but it wasn’t long before Prompto was hauling Ignis up into the cramped cockpit of a spare model. It took some arranging to get comfortable and store their gear, but once they got situated Prompto’s override code let him take direct control of the unit.

“Here goes nothing!” Prompto said as it fired to life. Goodness knows it was a jerky ride, seemingly engineered for neither seamless mobility or comfort, and Ignis felt very fortunate he was not inclined to nausea, but nonetheless Prompto slowly and steadily moved it in the direction of the hangar’s exit, wherever that would take them. As they came to a sudden halt, Prompto’s “Hold up a minute!” perhaps uttered more for his own benefit than Ignis’, did not prevent his questioning. 

“Is there a problem?” Ignis asked although it was a long moment before he received a response, the sound of Prompto fiddling with the controls filling up the silence. 

“We’re at a gate,” Prompto explained distractedly. “I wanna see if there’s remote access to get them to open up. It’d be a real drag if I had to get out every fucking time we run into a door.”

“Indeed.”

“Here we are. Let’s see what this does,” Prompto said as he manipulated the interface, soft sounds ringing out at the touch. The sound of retracting machinery suggested it did exactly what they wanted. 

“We are out of here!” Prompto crowed.

Ignis smiled and nodded his head, “Well done, then.” Progress, even so minute, was encouraging.

Once outside the main facility, they followed the easiest route of access back to the railway lines that they could manage, although there were a few touch-and-go spots where Prompto was forced to manoeuvre them over wreckage. Ignis did his best to not betray his terror as the whole contraption nearly slid backwards when climbing over a knocked-over train carriage, but Prompto’s quick reflexes allowed him to recover and they made it over safely. Prompto’s gasp after the fact cut through Ignis’ relief.

“Is that the Regalia?” Prompto said, “Oh my god.”

At least Ignis knew exactly where they were now. It must be a hard sight to take in. Ignis couldn’t help but let bitterness sweep over him at the loss of something that had been so deeply a part of their journey, a haven in its own right where all four of them rode together. In the scheme of things, however, it was a small loss, and he had only room to be preoccupied with the recovery of Gladio, and Noct. Anything else was irrelevant. Nonetheless, he paused for a moment, as he considered their current assets.

“Prompto,” Ignis said, “Do you think it would be possible to use the mechanical arms to prize apart the wreckage?”

“What?”

“The boot at least.”

“We could get back some of our own supplies,” Prompto said excitedly. 

“Mm, yes. Gladio would also love to know his precious camping gear had not gone to waste.”

“You think that’s really what he’s gonna care about after all this?”

“I’m certain,” Ignis said, with a smile. “Such is the passion of a collector.”

“Guess we better figure out how this puppy works then!”

“Try not to fry it first,” Ignis said, “It’ll do us little good.”

“I’ll save the blowtorch for the daemons, I promise. Already got a few of them with the torpedoes on the way out so I’m pretty sure this last one’s gotta be the claw.”

“Let us hope.”

It took some time to rip the door of boot free from the Regalia, and as they worked on it they attracted a few curious daemons, but they got a true taste of the power of the MA-X unit as Prompto had his chance to, so to speak, “serve up an order of fries, extra crispy!” Once the door was removed and the coast clear of daemons, they hopped out of the cockpit and quickly loaded what they could before anything more could appear to take advantage of their vulnerability. It meant the space was even more cramped than before, but when, as they began retreating, Prompto called for a high five, Ignis raised his palm without protest, feeling at last some measure of victory against a world so stacked against them.

 

They had been travelling for hours out along the track, long since out of Gralea proper and into the Ghorovas Rift, when Prompto brought the machine to a halt.

“What is it? Where are we?” Ignis asked, stirred from a half-sleep he’d been lulled into despite the jerking motion of the MA-X unit.

“We’re still on the tracks leading to Tenebrae,” Prompto said. “It’s dark but I think I’m seeing light over that way.” The movement of his arm suggested he was gesturing somewhere to Ignis’ right. Ignis did not know enough of the layout of this part of the world to even guess what it could be.

“It looks like there’s caves, and I’m thinking, if my eyes aren’t just playing tricks, those are haven runes throwing off light. Wanna go check it out?”

“As long as we can find our way back, I see no reason not to survey the territory,” Ignis replied. Prompto made a noise of assent and began to manoeuvre the vehicle to the right, due east if Ignis had it correctly.

If it was a haven he espied, they were lucky indeed. Ignis had been puzzling to no adequate solution earlier how they would pass their nights in the straits they were in. Prompto could not operate the MA-X without rest, and Ignis could not operate it without sight. They might shut it down and sleep there in the cockpit, however cramped, but the temperature controls would be shut off with it and they would be freezing in a few hours. They could instead leave the unit running but stationary, but they might find themselves without fuel when they woke. He had no sense of the fuel capacity of these armoured units, but they couldn’t operate infinitely, and Ignis would rather that fuel be used closing distance between them and Tenebrae. Not to mention, whether the unit were running or no, they’d still be vulnerable to attack while they were stationary and sleeping. A haven, however, always meant two things: access to fire, and guaranteed protection from daemons. However cold it might be, they had their camping gear and could solve their quandary quite ideally by spending the night under the oracle’s protection next to a steady fire, wasting no more fuel than necessary.

“There’s definitely a bunch of caves up ahead,” Prompto said. “I can’t see the light right now but I’m almost certain that’s what it was. When I was trying to make my way back to you guys, I ended up somewhere similar.”

“Let’s keep our fingers crossed,” Ignis said.

“I can do you one better. I can see the light again,” Prompto said as they came over the crest of a hill. “It’s a haven, we can be there in five minutes probably.”

“Good eye.”

“They don’t call me the sharpshooter for nothin’!”

“Just who calls you that?” Ignis asked pointedly.

“C’mon, you know what I meant.” 

“Indeed,” Ignis said, letting Prompto have his fun. “At any rate, we now have a resting place for the night. I’m sorry to make you navigate an unfamiliar route outside daylight hours.”

“Iggy,” Prompto said, his confidence melting and giving way to an uncomfortable melancholy. “It’s daylight, I mean, daytime—daylight…doesn’t seem to be much of a thing, anymore.”

Ignis rationally knew Prompto’s words were honest, but it did not stop him from pulling out his phone to have it read out the midday hour. 

“We’ve been going all night,” Prompto said. “I could probably pass right out on the snow, again.”

“I’m sorry to have pushed you so,” Ignis said. The days had been shortening drastically by all reports as they left Altissia, but it was hard to appreciate on a purely intellectual level. Taking it all in, the matter had gotten even worse in the ensuing time from their arrival in Gralea.

“Nah, we needed to get the hell out of there,” Prompto said, bringing the mechanized contraption to a halt. “But what say we get the hell out of here and get some sleep?”

“Sounds capital.”

It took some work to make the fire, but they were lucky the previous people who’d sought respite here had left a few logs behind. They were strewn about the cave by the wind but mostly dry, and saved them the trouble of having to find their own. They arranged their camping gear as reasonably near to the fire pit as they could, trusting the magic nature of the runes to confine the fire within the stone circle. They ate a quick meal of canned beans, heated up over the fire, but Ignis managed to persuade Prompto to grate up some of their kettier ginger, mixing it into boiling water for a bracing tea.

“It gets so much worse the more you drink,” Prompto sputtered, having gulped down several mouthfuls after the first had proved not so bad.

“It has natural healing properties. In this chill, it’s a wise preventative measure,” Ignis said, drinking from his camping mug at a steadier rate.

“I mean, I do feel warm from the tip of my toes up, so there is that, but my throat also feels like it’s on actual fire.”

“You’ll sleep better for it,” Ignis promised.

“Holding you to that,” Prompto grumbled.

Ignis pursed his lips, unsure whether it was the right time to bring up what had been in his mind since they disembarked from their craft. He had been given excess opportunity to think while arranging the mundane matters of the campsite. There was nothing for it, he thought in the end. “I certainly expect no more of you tonight,” Ignis began, hearing Prompto shift attentively as he picked up Ignis’ serious tone, “but I would burden you with yet another request upon this journey.”

“Yeah?”

“I need you to train me to fight as I used to, or as best I can now. What I have been managing will not be sufficient, not for Ardyn’s challenge nor for the protection of the people of Lucis once we return.”

“You know it’s not your responsibility to protect the people of Lucis?” Prompto said, sceptically, and Ignis knew him well enough to read it as something born of concern, not ridicule, however unpleasant such doubt felt. “No one’d ask that of you.”

“On the contrary,” Ignis said, “I am the advisor to the king. Until his return it is my sole duty. That is what it means to serve.”

There was a long silence before Prompto said anything, the crackling of the fire filling his ears until Prompto spoke up. “Y’know Iggy, I know you don’t really like to hear it, but I think you’re really amazing sometimes. I don’t know that I wouldn’t just give up in your shoes.”

“Give yourself a little more credit than that,” Ignis said, mindful that Prompto come through deeply unfavourable odds and cruel torture in order to reunite with the very person who had pushed him from a moving train. Such was their loyalty and faith in Noct, binding the four of them even when they sat now only two. 

Prompto hummed, before mumbling, “Guess we do gotta protect them all, huh? ‘Our sole duty’ then. Gotta do our best. For Noct.”

“Then you’ll assist me?” 

“You didn’t have to ask,” Prompto said, shifting to sit back. “If that’s what you want, of course, yeah.”

Ignis gripped the handle of his mug tighter as he thought of the Chancellor’s taunting, of his own anger at the man’s hand in depriving them of their king and his shield, of Ignis’ lifelong charge and his partner in both duty and love. “I will not be showing up to Ardyn’s doorstep half of who I was. When I darken his door, I will be me.”

“You got it,” Prompto said with an understanding pat on his arm. He stretched out for a moment, before lightening up the tone as he said, “Hafta say, it’s a good thing you didn’t ask me to ‘be Noct’ because warping is way beyond my skill level.”

“There is a reason he’s the Chosen King,” Ignis said with a hint of a smile curling at the corners of his lips.

“Prompto Argentum, secret heir to the Lucian line! Sounds like something out of the tabloids,” Prompto said with a laugh. There was a pregnant pause before he continued talking, “But, y’know, I’ve wanted to ask for a while, but Noct hated talking about it. Why is Noct the ‘Chosen’ King? I mean, his dad could do everything Noct can, more if Noct’s stories are true. I, uh, obviously didn’t see much of it myself, but like, what does being the Chosen King mean, versus all the not-chosen ones?”

“I confess, I don’t know,” Ignis said thoughtfully. It was an unexpected turn of conversation and an unsettling one for how unclear and imprecise the answers were, not at all to Ignis’ liking. “His destiny is ordained. He was ‘Chosen’, so to speak, by the gods, presumably through communion with the king himself. But there are a lot of answers I do not have. If His Majesty knew more…those answers followed him to the grave.”

“Huh.” 

“To be honest,” Ignis said hesitantly, not wishing to speak anything ill of the esteemed dead, “I always wondered why he acted as he did regarding Noct’s upbringing. Of course, I dared not question it, for he was the king, never mind my employer, and also a parent, which I am not. Things might have looked different to his eyes. But it was certainly a strange course to pursue in the raising of the next monarch, moreover, one with a great destiny—however unclear that destiny is to us. The more I think on it, the more I wonder what he was trying to achieve, but,” he paused, having never satisfied such speculations. “I have no answer.”

“And Noct always lost interest as soon as I came anywhere near the subject,” Prompto said. “Sure took his sweet-ass time to grow regal. We’re, we’re gonna see him again, right?”

“I refuse to believe otherwise,” Ignis said, setting his cup down with a clink against the stone. “And we’re well due past a night’s sleep whatever the hour. We can resume our journey after a proper rest.”

“Sounds good. I’m gonna go take a leak, but if you wanna settle in first, go for it. I can take care of camp.”

“Thank you for the consideration but some cleanup at least I can handle if you leave it all in one place. Maybe with further opportunity I might take on more of the kitchen labour again.”

“That’s the Iggy I know. Wouldn’t take a break if he were dead!”

“Still counted among the living,” Ignis said, collecting his tin cup as he stood. Whatever the chill and the events of the past days that might haunt their sleep, it was high time they turned in.

 

The next day they returned to the tracks, but it was a matter of hours before unit’s engine sputtered and all humming of machinery fell to silence as the fuel was expended to its last and the contraption shut down. They had made quite a distance through the rift, but were a long way yet from Tenebrae.

“If you’ve got it correct, we’re still hours and hours away from Luna’s manor on foot.” Prompto said surveying the situation as best he could. 

“And we’ve yet to pass through the tunnels,” Ignis said, remembering Gladio’s report of the daemons crowding them.

“And there’s no people,” Prompto continued. “Just the main tracks and some intersecting ones crossing every so often going out into the hills. But I don’t see any lights out there, except for some of the platforms where the grid is still open, I guess.”

Ignis hummed in acknowledgment, mind working swiftly to take it all in and chart out their next move.

“Also,” Prompto said, as a final dismal addendum, “looking at all the stuff we brought, I don’t think we can carry it all the way there.”

“Carried away yet again. We’ll have to discard unnecessary items, in that case,” Ignis said, pondering their resources. The more they had, the more their survival was ensured, but not if they couldn’t make their journey at all. “I wonder, this unit must have had some kind of outfitting that allowed it to glide across snow, yes?”

“Yep, the legs have retractable runners.”

“Would it be possible to dismantle them somehow? Violently or otherwise. With the right parts we might be able to create a makeshift sleigh and use that to carry our gear. We’d be able to bear more weight with our shared strength and the assistance of friction.”

“That’s, I mean, okay, it’s worth a try, I guess,” Prompto said. Ignis heard much shuffling and mumbled speculation over the corpse of the MA-X unit before the sound of something being summoned from the armiger came to his ear.

“Things I Never Thought I’d Use the Drillbreaker For for 500,” Prompto said under his breath before its terrible whirring began. Ignis left him to the work, retreating deep in thought as he contemplated their course. In the end, Prompto was able to salvage the runners and take off a sheet of plastic casing from the unit that could be used to pile their gear on.

“Don’t really know how we’re gonna attach it all though,” Prompto said as he assembled the pieces.

“If only there were some way to weld it together. We might be able to push Noct’s fire magic up to a high heat in combination with one of—”

“That sounds like a terrible idea and I vote we don’t try.”

Ignis huffed, but did not contest it. Honestly, there were limits to resourcefulness and if he weren’t somewhat desperate and rather cold he’d probably feel his proposal was as dubious as Prompto made it sound.

“Hey, Iggy,” Prompto said after a moment of troubled silence, “Maybe we’re just, like, overthinking it. Forget the runners. I can drill a couple of holes in that plastic casing and then we can use Gladio’s elastic cord thingies to pull it over the snow.”

A suggestion of infinite more sense, and simplicity. What had things come to, Ignis thought. “I’ll let it slide then,” he said. It took Prompto a second, but Ignis felt rather rewarded by the chuckle he got out of him before the noise got swallowed up by the whirring of the drill.

After piling everything on and making a double harness with their shock cords, they were ready to get a move on, and none too soon with the seeping coldness that being stationary was causing. Ignis had to give up his cane for the endeavour, and laid it on the makeshift sled last.

“Are you nervous without it?” Prompto asked.

“Please verbally inform me of anything that interferes with our path,” Ignis said, ignoring the question entirely. “Especially if we’re heading downhill. I’d prefer it not come crashing from behind unaware.”

“Sure thing. Next to the tracks it’s pretty level though.”

“Yet another reason we ought to keep to them,” Ignis said, fitting the harness around his waist.

“I’ll match your pace,” Prompto said as Ignis straightened out, ready to begin the trek. “Just don’t take huge strides. Please.”

 

It was nearly two hours into the venture that they paused for a break, needing water and a brief rest. The sled was working, for the moment, but Ignis’ mind was plagued with the difficulties they might encounter if any daemons were to suddenly attack while they were still harnessed to the sled. It had also bit at his heels more than once which was decidedly unpleasant, but it was less exhausting than carrying their gear on their backs. 

The tracks creaked and groaned as a biting wind swept through, and Ignis thought he could hear the hum of a generator, placing them near one of the platforms with functioning lights. At such a distance he couldn’t see it for himself, having found his visual capacity for pinpointing light sources limited to a more immediate range. The flaring light of Prompto’s flashlight catching him in the eye now and again he could isolate to a physical location, but distant overhead lighting was hopeless in that regard. He took comfort that at least Prompto had chosen the stopping point well, for if there were lights, they were relatively safe. He took a long draught from the water bottle before holding it out for Prompto to take, but simply bumped it into Prompto’s arm instead.

Ignis immediately came to full alert as he realized Prompto’s attention was on something behind them.

“Can you hear that?” Prompto asked.

The things he could hear were overwhelming and boundless, the soundscape around him replacing sight as his primary means of interpreting the world, but without sight it remained difficult to filter through them and grasp what was important and informative. He was frustratingly at a loss to understand what Prompto meant until the object Prompto was looking at came closer and the sounds started to cohere. The humming he had heard was not a generator—it was getting louder the closer it came—and the creaking of the rails he’d noted was not the random, haphazard creaking of wood and metal shrinking and expanding he’d hithertofore been listening to, but of something steadily traversing upon them. Something was coming toward them down the tracks.

“Can you see it?” Ignis asked, gripping Prompto’s arm tightly. It was dark out but the snow would throw some manner of reflection up, surely.

“Sort of. You’re not gonna believe me, but it looks like a bus is coming up the tracks. Not from the Gralea ones. It’s coming up to where they merge.”

“The junction,” Ignis said.

“Yeah, and it’s getting closer. And it’s definitely a bus. With way too many wheels. They’re actually driving on the tracks, I think.”

“A maintenance vehicle?” Ignis asked.

“Maybe, if they look like that? What should we do?”

“Pray it’s a sign of life. Be ready for a fight.”

“Business as usual, then,” Prompto said, playful but strained.

“Well, we might hail it down,” Ignis said, wincing as the strong beams of road-rail vehicle’s lights caught them.

“They were gonna notice us anyway but here goes nothing,” Prompto said before suddenly jumping up and down and waving. The vehicle was truly close now, progressing slowly but steadily up the railway tracks until it came to a gradual halt where they stood.

“Uh, hello there!” Prompto said loudly, grabbing Ignis by the arm and guiding him up the track a little. “There’s people inside!” he whispered excitedly to Ignis. “Nice to meet ya?”

Ignis heard a door slide open on hinges in need of a good greasing, followed by the impact of someone jumping out onto the snow in front of them.

“Where’n the hell d’you hail from?” a woman spoke in a thickly-accented voice. Ignis didn’t recognize it from his travels, but fortunately she was speaking common Lucian.

“Gralea,” Prompto answered perhaps too earnestly for their good. They were in enemy lands, so to speak. “I mean, we’re not from there obviously. Or, he’s not anyway, long story—”

“Where y’headed?”

“Tenebrae,” Ignis said. They maybe ought to keep quiet about their origins, but there was little point in concealing their purpose. Where they were heading was the only place they could go, under the circumstances. “We’d hoped to find transport in Pagla perhaps, if not earlier.”

“You’d have a time of it. The trains’ve all been grounded,” the woman said. “Had the radio transmission come through th’other day. Bastards refused to operate ‘em. Said it wasn’t safe. Like sittin’ tight in our houses waitin’ for the daemons an’ those soldiers t’ come for us is safe.”

“You evidently worked around it,” Ignis said.

“I took me an’ mine and got ‘em out of there,” she said harshly, perhaps taking it as an accusation. When he and Prompto made it clear by their manner there was no offence meant, her tone eased and she spoke further. “So happens my cousin Heike used to work clearing the tracks. We broke into the station yard and got a ride out. Call it thieving if you want, but there ain’t a hope of surviving in a village like ours if the lights are out an’ the trains don’t run. If my family’s the only one can see it, at least they’re all here.”

Having lost family and companions alike, whittled down only to the two of them, neither himself nor Prompto were short on empathy, but he was careful not to let too much show lest offence be taken once more. She seemed not the kind to take pity well. “I don’t suppose there’s room for two more?” Ignis asked instead.

“Y’can’t see, can ya?” she said.

“I’m afraid not,” he said, trying not to let his irritation show.

“You got something you’re willing to trade?” she asked.

“Uh, we have some gil,” Prompto began saying before Ignis shoved an elbow into his side. Lucian gil wasn’t going to mean a lot to someone out in the hills of Vogliupe or Ueltham, but it would be valuable negotiating passage back in Niflheim’s port cities.

“We have provisions, medical supplies and an array of items from our travels that may be of value to you if you’ll allow us to bring our gear on board with us. We can come to a reasonable arrangement once our journey is underway. I fear our prolonged rest here might attract attention we do not want,” Ignis said as diplomatically as he could.

“Get yourselves on board, then,” she said, evidently not much interested in diplomacy. Nonetheless, they had a ride.

When they finally boarded, the rail-road vehicle resumed its slow traversal over the tracks, stopping only to clear away obstructions and drifts, or to bypass them entirely when possible. What it lacked in speed it made up for in versatility, and Ignis had to admit if the trains were indeed grounded, Inge, as she ended up introducing herself, had chosen well. He learned that there were five other adults in the bus-like vehicle, three children, and two elders, and that they hailed from a hamlet in the mountains of Vogliupe, populated only by a few families that nonetheless had a railway terminus for the transporting of lumber, being an old logging industry site. Inge and a few of the adults evidently still worked in the business from their words. The family was wary at first, but the children, though not well-versed in common Lucian, were eager to play with the new arrivals and Prompto’s good nature helped break the ice.

When Prompto had a moment to describe them quietly to him, he learned that two of them, along with Inge, were armed with axes. While Inge mostly stayed at the front window and delivered orders and commentary to the driver, Heike, the other two were apparently sitting by the windows on either side, looking nervous as they approached a tunnel.

“You boys fight,” Inge said, an assertion more than a question.

“Couldn’t have made it this far if we didn’t,” Prompto said, covering up his own nervousness at the approaching tunnel with his boasting.

“The daemons come down on us, we’ll try and sit it through, but Antje and Steffen c’n fight if it comes to it. We come to a stop, I ‘spect you out there with us. S’all we need as passage.”

“A tidy arrangement,” Ignis said.

“Sis, he’s—” one of the men began to speak, before she cut him off.

Inge switched to their native dialect as they argued, which Ignis had some trouble comprehending, although this short ride had given him more practice in common Heimish than his extensive court education ever had. The matter seemed resolved, however, and everyone save the children fell quiet as they came through the tunnel. They were nearly clear of it, Prompto reported, when the daemons descended. They dropped upon the roof, and battered into the sides of the vehicle, mostly goblins from the sounds of their small surface area. The occupants began shouting at each other as one of the windows cracked. Prompto rushed past Ignis to the door, crouching on the step until Inge gave the signal, sliding it open and picking off the goblins that were immediately blocking their exit, before jumping out of the car. A sudden brightness took over Ignis’ vision as Prompto shot a starshell into the air. No doubt it would help keep away any further comers.

Ignis felt the others rush past him, and he grabbed his cane and followed them out of the relative safety of the vehicle, taking a moment to take stock of things as best he could once on solid ground.

“Iggy, some fire would be appreciated, if you can,” Prompto called out from a few feet away.

“Tell me where,” Ignis said, readying a flask. He tried not to flinch as a bullet sped past him into a daemon that must have been creeping up. 

“Ten o’clock—no, no! Your two o’clock, sorry. A couple feet up.”

Ignis cast the fire spell as directed and relished the sound of multiple daemons screaming. The quality of the light he perceived changed with the spell, tinted with the warmer hue of fire, but it was too faint to make out the source, so he remained where he was, not wishing to accidentally trod upon the spell’s lingering remnants. 

The tunnel made for a chaotic battleground, the shouts of the daemons and their travelling companions ricocheting in a confusing mess. He relied on Prompto for both instruction and protection from any immediate threat, his knives left aside for the power of magic afforded him through the armiger.

“One more at 7 o’clock and maybe ten feet away,” Prompto called out and Ignis let the flask fly. “Hell yeah!” 

The noise had dimmed somewhat, and Ignis was able to make out more of what was going on. It wasn’t long before Inge was calling to them to reboard, hoping to pull out of there before anything more decided to take them on. Ignis was pushed up the step by the man behind him, while Prompto shot out one last starshell as they began pulling away and jumped up onto the stair, slamming the sliding door closed behind him. There was a straggler on their roof, pounding away and frightening the children, but the goblin abandoned them as they pulled out of the tunnel into the gloom of Tenebrae, the lights of the Fenestala Manor station providing them extra protection, no doubt.

“Don’t hold with Lucian magic much, but I’ll say it’s handy in a pinch,” Inge said, over the shushing of her family trying to quiet the frightened children. “Well-fought, both o’ ya.”

I can do better, Ignis thought. He straightened himself up while Prompto was offering a weary thanks next to him. More than ever Ignis felt he needed to start training again if he was going to accomplish this task alone. Prompto was swiftly becoming his crutch, rather than ally.

“Wait, this, is this Tenebrae?” Prompto asked as he moved to the windows on the opposite side of the car.

“Yes, the tunnel should have seen us through to the hills of Zoldara Henge. We’re rounding on the manor if I’m not mistaken,” Ignis informed him. “When last we were here the Commodore was leading an evacuation.”

“I don’t think she’s here,” Prompto said. Ignis could hear the unsettled note in his voice.

“How does it look?” Ignis asked.

“Oh, it looks, it looks bad,” Prompto said, pressed against the window. “I know you told me it was, but it…looks worse.”

“The civilians?” 

“I don’t see any, but there’s things lurking beyond the light.” 

The heart of Tenebrae was lost, then, Ignis thought.

Someone walked over to them, interrupting their reverie. 

“Onto Pagla,” Inge said. “No stops.”

 

In Pagla, their hopes were finally met with some answer. The place was overcrowded with pilgrims, tourists, and citizens in desperate straits, leaving the people they encountered suspicious and cold, but boats and airships still came in and out, although the latter were few and far between. Ignis and Prompto parted ways with Inge and her family but spoke of establishing contact again should they choose to abandon whatever hopes they had in Eastern Niflheim and make their way to Lucis. After some wait and hard bargaining, Ignis and Prompto found themselves on a ship, overcrowded with passengers, striking out for Galdin Quay. Prompto quickly found himself seasick, the waves choppy as they churned beneath them, and confined himself to the cabin they were lucky to have at all. Two nights into the venture, Ignis found himself leaning over the rail of one of the upper decks, feeling the breeze and listening to the cries of gulls above as the deck tilted underfoot, killing time fruitlessly. They had gone out of range of any nearby radio towers sometime during the day, and information was going to be limited until they came closer to the Lucian coast.

As the breeze whipped about his face, Ignis began to shiver unexpectedly, reminded oddly of the Gralean cold. He froze as he realized the ship had stopped shifting, the waters crackling into ice around its hull and the few people around him gone silent and unmoving. The wood beneath his gloves became frosty to the touch and he felt colder that he could ever remember, but once.

“Whilst the King of Kings sleeps, the Accursed spins his plots,” came a voice echoing all around him. 

Gentiana—no, the Glacian herself, Ignis thought, remembering Noct’s words on the train.

The quiet patter of shoeless feet upon the deck came up behind him and he turned, awed by her presence, for with her moved a perceptible aura that spoke of her divinity. Despite the cruel chill, he slowly stooped to one knee to pay respect to the goddess before him.

She spoke on, paying little mind to the show of obeisance. “The Frostbearer seeks to undo his mischief and reveals herself to the companion of the King of Kings, that the True Shield may be returned to the Chosen’s side and his coming not be forestalled.”

“I am honoured, High Goddess,” Ignis uttered through his chattering teeth.

The Glacian reached out to brush her hand upon his cheek, catching him unaware. The gesture was fiercely cold to the touch, however gentle, before she withdrew. It had none of the feeling of the Chancellor’s cruelty from before.

“Feeble are mortals compared to the gods and yet hope burns bright in their hearts. It is this fire that the Accursed wishes to extinguish, and so he who bears the name of fire must exceed him in his game. Come the Vesper Phasmae, the Accursed will hold procession with his daemon horde. Only this night shall you free the True Shield,” she spoke.

Only that night, Ignis thought frantically. Eleven months, two weeks and three days away. Eleven months, two weeks, and three days with Gladio in captivity while they would wait on Insomnia’s borders and do nothing to aid him. It was bitter knowledge to swallow.

“Only this night,” Shiva repeated solemnly, “for this is the trick he shall play, believing an unseeing mortal shall not guess the true answer. You must await the passing of the third beast of this procession, a griffon great and deadly. Wrap you your arms about the neck of its rider and the Accursed shall unleash his test. Change it shall, into beast, and daemon and any shape, but when at last it is searing fire you hold, the Pyreburner’s own gift, plunge the flame into the waters and mortal man shall be restored to you once more.”

Ignis could hear the steps retreat, as the chill seemed to ease around him. He heard her words echoing throughout the air once more.

“These are the words of the Frostbearer, little mortal. Bring the Accursed’s tricks to an end, that the world may hail the coming of its True King.”

Like that she was gone as if she had never been, the gulls crying once more, the ship restored to its steep rocking, the murmurs of other passengers resuming, unaware of what had passed. Ignis took a moment to gather himself, and went below to find Prompto.

 

When they arrived at Galdin Quay, they were met with the same difficulty found in Pagla. There were more people in one place than could be managed, and while some might settle there, or return to their homes in Lucis, most of the Niflheim refugees were attempting to reach Lestallum, and transport was limited, despite the best efforts of the Hunters. 

Fortunately, now at home they quickly re-established contact with Cor and Iris, although it pained Ignis greatly to inform them that it was only the two of them who had returned. He could only promise Gladio’s sister that they were both alive, if absent, and that explanations were best saved for later. He owed her more than that, but it would not do for a phone conversation. Instead they turned to plans of transit. 

Rather than attempting to return to Lestallum, Prompto and Ignis managed to find a ride to the less in-demand location of Hammerhead instead, hoping to regroup with Iris and Cor as they evacuated the refugees of Insomnia along the northern roads. Cindy greeted them on arrival, but Cid was nowhere to be seen, and Cindy’s bright smile seemed to dim as she realized the prince was not with them, nor their fourth companion. 

They immediately set to work, helping as they could, and Ignis now demanded Prompto’s free time for training, something he willingly gave. Prompto had become more subdued in nature, perhaps Noct’s absence or the reality of the darkness around them truly settling on him, and as he promised Ignis in Niflheim, he gamely stepped up as one of Lucis’ protectors. 

When they finally met with Cor and Iris, many days later, they laid out their tale as best they could, and in return received tell of the fall of night in Lucis, and the Insomnia evacuation. At the close of the evening, the night before they were to set out to Lestallum, believing Ignis might be a hand with logistics there, Iris spoke to him privately. He had the distinct feeling he was being consoled as she told him, “It’s okay. I know you’re gonna bring him back.” She seemed to have grown up so much in the little time they’d been away.

 

Ignis counted every day of the year that passed, organizing people, supplies, and transit, negotiating with the Lestallum governing board and the factories and the hospitals, trying to keep people alive, keep necessary goods moving and accessible, and keep the Hunters Iris lead able to do the work they do. He was but one cog in the mechanism of Lestallum’s Hunter Headquarters, no longer the advisor to the future king, but nonetheless capable of using his skills to deliver the kingdom in the best order he could to Noct upon his return. Nonetheless, he selfishly still made time to take hunts as he could, needing all the combat experience he could get, while he trained with Prompto and Iris and whoever would assist him. If new colleagues sometimes commented he seemed more machine than man, he could bear with it, keeping his sights ever on the goal and shutting out anything that threatened his resolved. Some nights, as he lay there thinking of Gladio, he could hear his disappointment, his consternation of once again giving too much, of not considering his own good, run throughout his head in the rich bass of his voice. But if he heard the criticisms, he could also summon more sentimental words to mind and held them deep and secret within his heart, a reminder of what he was doing this for. 

Nearly a month before the day of reckoning was due, Ignis and Prompto packed up for Hammerhead. Ignis had left things in the best order he could in Lestallum and Prompto could offer his skill as a hunter at the Hammerhead outpost as well as anywhere. Ignis requested, unusually, that they walk.

“I know it puts us at great risk,” Ignis reiterated firmly, as they made their way out of Lestallum’s halo on foot, having sent some of their less immediately necessary possessions on ahead of them, “but it’s no more than a ten days’ journey at worst, and there will be no experience so practical as this in readying me for what’s ahead.”

“This is insane, for the record,” Prompto said, snapping a quick shot of the city behind them before putting away his camera, “but let’s do it your way.”

It was insane, but in a week’s time they had made it to Hammerhead, and Ignis had seen more combat then he’d had all year, more opportunities to distinguish the sounds and moves of different daemons across the Duscaen and Leiden landscapes as Prompto did his best to let him lead and learn within reason. Ignis was growing surer of his surroundings, although he still retained the cane for finding his way through unfamiliar places. He’d also had multiple occasions to put his spearwork to the test, something which he’d given up in the immediate aftermath of losing his sight and had begun relearning only recently with the sporadic assistance of the erstwhile Commodore. 

Having safely arrived, he and Prompto wasted little time in taking on hunts in the Leiden desert for the remaining weeks, making sure to clean out anything near the city’s checkpoint to ensure no trouble of access as the date approached closer. Dread and anticipation filled Ignis’ heart in the final weeks, and it was under the influence of this potent cocktail of emotions that he found himself sitting in the passenger seat of a borrowed truck, being driven into the city he once called home.

“You sure you’re ready?” Prompto asked, as he pulled the truck up to the edge of the ruined financial district, as far as he could, given the blockage on the roads, and as far as he dared. 

“Ready doesn’t enter into the equation,” Ignis said, having no room for anything but determination in his mindset. “Tonight is the night on which he can be rescued and so it is the night on which I must rescue him. Simple as that.”

“Are you sure you don’t want the help? I mean, I can’t know the ‘will of the gods’ and all that, but—”

“Thank you, Prompto, but no,” Ignis said. They had been over this many a time, in the passing of a year.

“Yeah, I guess that’s the way it has to be,” Prompto said glumly. 

There had been some argument of Prompto bringing Ignis so far into the city at all, but Ignis had to concede it was a challenging distance to cross alone, and though he might have more hope with Gladio’s aide on the way back, this seemed a reasonable compromise for the journey inwards. Prompto would keep well clear of the Citadel and Ignis would be more easily able to proceed on foot with less of the city to cross. They risked much in the damage of the highway infrastructure and the daemon threat, but the gamble seemed so far worthwhile. Ignis, satisfied that they’d come to a full stop, disengaged his seatbelt and stepped out of the vehicle, letting the cane find the ground for him first. He heard Prompto shift the stick and follow suite, coming around the bonnet.

“Do me a favour and come back in one piece,” Prompto said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “With the big guy too.”

“That’s my intent,” Ignis said. He reached his free hand up to pat Prompto’s twice in reassurance before moving away. “Now get out of here, and don’t wait on us. You’ll be a sitting duck, if you do.”

“Yeah, yeah, I gotcha,” Prompto said, clambering back into the cab.

Ignis promptly took out his phone, flipping to the map application Prompto had created for him. It was based off of information taken from Insomnian refugees that would help Ignis navigate his way to the Citadel through the wreckage. 

“Got it working?” Prompto called through the window of the truck.

“All in good order,” Ignis said. “Farewell.”

“You mean, ‘see you soon.’”

“That I do,” Ignis answered, as Prompto fired up the engine once more and drove away into the night.

Ignis braced himself, and began his progress into the heart of the city. He believed the procession would be passing outside the gates of the Citadel, for rumour was Ardyn Izunia had holed up there in the past year, and the wide streets outside were an ideal location for it. There were also many reflecting pools in the area, which Ignis believed he could use in the accomplishing of the final task, for there weren’t many easy alternatives. It was still an hour yet from the fated time according to his phone’s tinny voice, when he arrived at the area in which he would wait. Making the utmost of that time, he surveyed it as best he could, finding a heap of torn up paving slabs and wire that might afford him a screen from observing eyes, counting out the paces between the roadway and the pools around it, testing out the depths of the water, although he kept away from the gates proper lest the Chancellor had set some guard. He’d had to hide multiple times, hearing the stirring of some daemon presence echoing through the boulevard, but there were advantages to being one small human in the scope of a large, empty ruined city.

As the hour closed in, he leaned against the torn up heap of pavement slabs, the mottled texture cool beneath his touch. He could hear it coming, the procession the Glacian had foretold. There was a cacophony of sounds, animal and daemon both, from the eerie human cackles of nagas to the whooping of goblins. “Give me but a bit of your strength, love,” he whispered, steeling himself. “I’m going to bring you home.”

The first of the procession came to pass and he could feel as much as hear the pounding footsteps of an iron giant which shook the ground with each heavy footfall. He was grateful to be out of range of the swing of its massive blade where he was hidden. So long as it knew nothing of his presence, he would not have to face it. He was wary, still, as it passed. The giant was at the fore, that could not be doubted, but Ignis was not sure whether the words the Glacian had given him counted it among the number. The Glacian had spoken of three “beasts” in her prophecy. Were daemons counted among their number, or wild things only? He could not be certain of the mind of a god.

The sound that followed the Iron Giant was the trotting of an ungulate beast, large to be certain, but Ignis could not guess until he heard the braying as it kicked and shifted around, moving wildly as though rejecting the magical captivity that made it take part in this farce. At that size it must be a leukhorn, he thought, and as a true beast it counted either as the first, or the second in accordance with the prophecy—which of them only the next creature would reveal. 

Following the trotting of hooves, he could glean that there was pair of Arachne, from their laughter and the sudden increase of light. Ignis stayed as still as he could, his eyelid fluttering shut to block out the sudden brightness as one of them tossed its spawn out heedlessly. Trusting it had not done so aware of his position, he turned his focus instead back to the matter of numbers. Considering these two daemons, and the iron giant before, it was beasts only he must observe, he thought. One down, then, two more to go.

A pair of hobgoblins were next, hooting like madmen, causing loose bits of rubble to scatter with their acrobatic antics, followed by the slithering sound of several flans oozing a sweet scent. Ignis felt the ground shake suddenly beneath him and he braced his hand against the slab of torn up pavement firmly, trying not to reveal himself. One of the damn things must have jumped. Fortunately, despite a few more earth-shaking bounds, the flans moved on without bringing attention to his position.

The sound he heard following the slimy procession was faint at first, a beating hum. He couldn’t immediately ascertain until he felt the wind whip against his face, stirred by heavy wings, and heard the screech of an animal he’d carefully memorized. From the force of the air and the steadily amplifying sound he could tell the griffon was alighting through the air, impossible to catch without the ability to warp. Could he reach one of its talons if he leapt from the stone heap? Or was this not the third beast, his mind thought frantically as he tried to review his evidence. His count had been one, yes? Should he wait? Or was this his chance and he had merely erred, not knowing the Glacian’s true mind? His heart seized with panic as the griffon passed him by, not knowing whether to act. 

Then he heard it, the clicking sound on the ground, the next in the procession, tough talons scraping along the worn pavement. There were two griffons, one swooping about in the sky, the other forced to walk on the ground, no doubt because it bore a rider. Filled with renewed confidence, Ignis waited for the moment it seemed to pass nearest and sprang from his spot, throwing himself at its side, leaving his cane behind to be trampled by the host. He brushed a hand against the leg of a humanoid figure astride the griffon and knew he was correct. As the beasts and daemons around him began to shriek and howl at his appearance, he sprang up lightly so that he could grasp the rider around his neck and pull him down before the griffon could turn its deadly beak and talons upon him.

The parading creatures suddenly stilled, and Ignis felt dread in his heart as he took in the information his senses provided. Cold skin, not warmed by beating blood beneath; withered, sinewy muscles stretched too tightly over a human frame; a slung arm pressed horizontally between their chests; and the knock of a blade hilt, long and thin against his hip, were all he felt. The figure he held was not a man; it was that of a ronin. 

There was a third griffon, Ignis thought as he sunk to his knees in defeat, dragging the body down with him, so transfixed by his failure he could not unlock his grip. There must be a third, or perhaps there was another beast missed, too quiet in its passing. The despair he felt as he knelt there was deep enough to drown in, but as the ronin drew its blade from its sheath and brought it around him to press upon the back of his neck, Ignis knew keenly despair would not be what took him in the end. Ignis felt the parting of skin as the inhumanly sharp blade rested there, stinging lightly in its shallow trench. He breathed deeply waiting for the ronin to cut him down.

The blade withdrew, however—or disappeared, perhaps was more apt. In his arms he could feel the form of the ronin begin to alter, change shape into something else entirely, and with hope reignited he clung firmer to the figure in his arms. The Glacian had not led him astray, he thought, for here was the trial that was promised. 

Withered muscle turned to a fat, smooth, shell-like body, spindly arms into thin, hard limbs covered in cruel spines, catching on Ignis’ garments, and above all he heard and felt the flutter of rapidly-beating wings trying to pull free of his grasp, creating a buzzing sound thundering in his ears closer than he’d ever heard it before. In spite of his fear, he clung firmer to the killer bee as it struggled in his hold. He cried out at the sudden stabbing of its stinger in his leg, thrusting it through the fabric and breaking the skin there. Ignis felt the intoxication creep up, confusing his senses.

I will not succumb, he chanted to himself, struggling to retain consciousness and not yield his hold to a fit of madness, not this time. He breathed harshly, trying to maintain his awareness of himself without becoming sick from the toxin the bee had imparted. The form in his arms changed again, even as he felt chills breaking out from the venom coursing through his veins, felt his left leg become swollen from the sting and too numb to use. 

Thick, greasy hair-like strands brushed across his face from above as the body in his grip narrowed and shifted into something sand-like yet strong, the dry and scaly texture of its skin covering powerfully corded muscle. The naga made to lower its head and Ignis wrestled with his grasp on its neck, trying to hinder its movements, fearing the bite of its piercing fangs while he was still half-sick from the bee venom. He could not prevent the coiling of its powerful body around his torso, creeping around him in slow circles before it began to squeeze, slowly but solidly, until he felt his ribs might crack. He struggled vainly, his limbs losing feeling as it put pressure upon his blood vessels, stopping the blood in its flow.

He gasped in relief seconds later as it relented, the acute pain of constricted circulation still lingering even as his body embraced the renewal of its most basic process, heart pumping vigorously to restore blood flow to the rest of his being. Yet again the being changed in his arms, the snake’s coils turned to rough, dampened bark and four limbs emerging from its narrow torso. An earthy smell emanated from the mandrake as it snapped its jaws fiercely, pounding at his back with its branch-like arms and whipping its tail about, sure to form bruises where it struck like a bludgeon. The slippery moss made it difficult to grasp, dirt and grass caking under his fingers as he tried to keep his grip, nearly strangling it in his arms to curtail its snapping. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take of such brutality, and the goddess had not spoken to him of the number of transformations to be endured.

Had he any hope for the next transformation, it was dashed as the neck around which he wrapped his arms thickened, wide and muscular, and next to his ear the great maw of a behemoth opened to release its deafening roar. He was lifted from the ground as he refused to release his hold, before it instead threw him down on his back. Its breath was hot and rank against his face as it manoeuvred its foreclaws to rake down his chest, littering it with painful, gaping wounds as Ignis fought to block out the sensation in any way he could think, so that he could simply maintain his grip. This surely was the worst of them, no?

It was the next transformation that brought him true terror, and also hope. He felt in his grip the savage burning sensation of fire, a cruel consuming force branding his skin, bringing him back to the ruins of Altissia where so much had been lost. Never did he wish to encounter so closely that searing, all-consuming heat, that pain that could be felt for weeks even after the wounds had closed. He fought his instinctive fear of the flames against his skin with the words the Glacian had told him. Holding the ravaging ball of elemental energy to his chest, he staggered leftwards, dragging himself to the nearest reflecting pool which, though choked with algae and leaves, collected rainwater still. Ignis fell in, hoping with furious hope as he held the raw fire that his struggles were not in vain.

He raised his head above the water level quickly, the stench of algae almost suffocating, residue sliding along his skin back into the water. He waited tensely as the heat of the fire quelled within his arms. The feeling of raw energy impossibly held in his grasp slowly shifted into something more substantial, corporeal, and he swiftly rose to his feet, not loosing his grasp as the form twisted and transformed into solid shape, the muscular form beneath his arms not daemon or beast but simply man, one he knew every inch of under his touch.

“Iggy,” whispered Gladio’s deep voice against his ear, a breathless awe behind the words as human hands, ones Ignis knew intimately, came up to trace along his face. He leaned into it, immeasurably grateful for his touch—the solidness of his body against his, the sound of his voice, and the gentle tracing of his strong fingers all reaffirming it was the human Gladiolus Amicitia he held in his arms. Through the cloud of agonizing pain, Ignis focused on the feeling of the firm muscles of his back under his gloved hands, the expanding of Gladio’s chest as he breathed in deep and whispered again Ignis’ name. 

The hands on his face traced downwards to his neck and then further still to where half-cauterized claws wounds cut across his chest, skin dark and aching with searing heat and harsh blows. “Shit, here,” Gladio said, hit with the realization of what had passed. A cracking sound split the air and Ignis felt the cool, wet vapour of elixir against his skin, letting it seep in and close up the wounds, mending skin, blood, and vessels alike. Ignis kept his arms about his neck, unwilling to let go.

“Gladio,” Ignis breathed out as the pain of the trial upon his body and mind faded, the elixir restoring his body as Gladio’s presence restored his spirit.

“You took all that,” Gladio spoke quietly against his skin, “for me?”

“Would you rather I hadn’t?” Ignis said, his joking half-hearted as he splayed his fingers against Gladio’s back, feeling the warmth of the skin there.

“C’mere,” Gladio said, cupping the back of his head as he brought their lips together. It was tender and certain, as much as it felt unreal, a reunion kiss fitting for a fairy tale—as their company had to unfortunately point out.

“My, but you don’t do things by halves,” Ardyn’s voice cut through the still air, accompanied by the trotting of a beast toward them, no doubt some grotesque mount he was riding in the procession that had since halted. “Such stories were always sealed with a kiss—whether of death or romance.” Both Ignis and Gladio turned to him in suspicion and disgust, not losing hold of the grip their hands had upon each other. 

“The lovers reunited,” he continued undeterred, “I suppose there must be some comfort, in these days.” It rankled how he towered over them from his mount. Cast them down though he may, he had never proven their superior. That Gladio was in his arms despite everything that had been taken from him was proof enough for Ignis. One day Noct would be back among them and restore this jester to his place.

Perhaps the Chancellor understood something of how Ignis’ mind worked, for his next words disconcertingly followed. “Oh, you have had only a taste of the waiting you’ve yet to endure.”

Gladio’s anger could be felt through his grip against Ignis skin, the intensity of his breathing, gone still like a coeurl waiting for the moment to pounce and unleash its full power. Ignis felt no less stirred by such threats but remained calm. He’d won Ardyn’s challenge for now, he’d been granted the blessing of the Glacian to do it, but rash action might as soon lead to further trouble. Beyond anything he believed her words, or perhaps merely the truth of his bones, that Noct must and would return, however long was the wait promised. As the advisor to the king he’d prepare everything for that moment. He wouldn’t lose sight now.

The towering presence relented at last, slouching back as he met no resistance, even though Ignis could tell Gladio had become no less tense. “But sure enough,” Ardyn said, slippery as an eel, as he guided his mount around to return to the motionless parade, “you have earned your gallant Shield.” Ignis could hear the procession of daemon and beasts resume as the feeling of Ardyn’s magic surged, the macabre parade continuing its march ignorant of the mortals standing in the shallow reflecting pool. 

The Chancellor, never short of words, continued dispensing his insidious remarks as he retreated. “Whether he shall protect you so well on the road back, I wonder. It may be treacherous.” His accompanying sigh was theatrical and prolonged. Ardyn drew his mount to a halt for a moment as he spoke his next words, “As your magical benefactor in this little story, I leave you with one gift, and one gift only. As you wait these dreadfully long years for the Chosen King’s return, look you to the royal tombs for answers of your king’s return.”

What could lay in the tombs that they had failed to discover before, Ignis wondered. Was it a trap, or was this yet another of the Chancellor’s ‘helpful’ suggestions. 

They would get no further answers from the Chancellor himself, that was clear. He resumed his retreat as he spoke, “Now I’ve a ball to attend to. The cat in the bog put up his tail, the adventure is finished.”

The procession was not long out of earshot when Gladio finally asked, “The hell was he talking about?”

“In which respect?” Ignis asked. Although his dry response was sincere enough, it set Gladio to laughing in his arms, dropping his head to Ignis’ neck to muffle the sound. Ignis waited it out patiently, happy to hear what had been long absent to his ears.

“Sorry, Iggy,” Gladio said as he collected himself, “I probably seem crazy. I forgot how good that feels.” His voice had a note of wonder, of someone absent from intelligible company becoming used to the world again.

Ignis burned with curiosity to ask about what exactly Gladio had experienced the past year, but he was uncomfortably aware they were covered in slime and standing in filthy water, and they had a long, potentially dangerous walk out of Insomnia, so he pushed it aside for the moment. “We ought to make our way to Hammerhead,” Ignis said, disengaging from Gladio’s embrace and stepping carefully out of the pool, the stench unfortunately following him. “Are you alright?”

“Clothes sure woulda been nice,” Gladio muttered, stepping out next to him.

“Your modesty is safe from me,” Ignis said with a tap on his glasses. The sound Gladio made suggested he did not find those jokes funny yet, but nonetheless he replied with spirit.

“Yeah, well yours isn’t safe from me,” Gladio said, running his hands under the rent fabric of Ignis’ shirt. He pressed a kiss against Ignis’ hairline as he murmured. “Rest stop, shower, and you, in that order, is what I’m thinking.” 

There certainly were worse ideas, Ignis thought as he tried not to sink too much into the touch. Gladio relented only after a few more lazy, unhurried caresses, the warmth retreating from his skin as swiftly as it had appeared. “All the same, I’d rather not stroll into Hammerhead buck naked. Cid’d run me out.”

He’s not there, Ignis thought sadly. He left that for later and simply said, “I recall there were some inners kept in the armiger, and even a pair of sneakers, once. A bullet-proof vest, maybe?”

“You’re a genius,” Gladio said, accompanied by the sound of various long forgotten armours and accessories they’d carted around for too long being summoned.

“I won’t suppose they fit very well,” Ignis said as he heard Gladio tug them on.

“Nope. We gotta walk all the way back to Hammerhead like this?”

“I didn’t think to bring a change of clothes. The Glacian’s words didn’t reveal what state you’d return in beyond ‘human.’”

“The Glacian?” Gladio said. “Shit, Iggy.”

“It wasn’t anything I did. Apparently when you’ve recklessly gone out and won the title of the Shield of the Chosen King your fate becomes a concern of the gods who’ll not suffer deviation from it.”

“Shit.”

“Anyway, to get back to the matter you were asking about, if I know Prompto’s knack for following orders, you won’t have to walk that far.”

“That’s a comfort,” Gladio said. “He doin’ okay?”

“As well as he can be, under the circumstances,” Ignis said.

“And you?” Gladio said, halting his fussing with the garments and reaching up to cup Ignis’ cheek. The touch was warm, full of the comfort offered of an equal, not a mocking immortal or a pitying goddess.

Ignis didn’t know how to speak of his own trials the past year, so he brushed the question aside and instead reached up for Gladio’s hand, cupping it in his own for a moment before pulling it back down to his side. He brought his hands instead to Gladio’s elbow. In lieu of the assistance of his cane, which had been lost somewhere in the tumult, it would do, and Gladio seemed to understand the request as they started moving. 

“I’m more concerned about you,” Ignis said, letting Gladio steer him through the civic district. “What happened after the Chancellor took you that day in the crystal chamber? Do you recall any of it?”

“It’s,” Gladio started haltingly, his muscles involuntarily tensing under Ignis’ fingers. “It’s not fully clear. I sorta have images of it, but I don’t think I understood what happened to me either. The furthest I can think back was waking up here—or something like waking up, I mean. He transformed me into a daemon. If I think about it, there’re glimpses of prowling the streets and all that stuff, but no real memory, or feeling. It’s a fucking confusing mess, and I don’t know how much time it went on for, until I was pulled off that griffon.” His words struck a chill in Ignis’ heart.

Gladio’s voice turned from bemused to vehement as he suddenly burst out, “It wasn’t me, who hurt you like that. I promise, Iggy! I wasn’t any of those creatures. I just…was inside somewhere, waiting to become myself again.” His hands came to grasp Ignis’ arms as he spoke.

“I know it wasn’t you,” Ignis said, trying to reassure Gladio. It hadn’t even entered his head to lay blame at Gladio’s feet. He was aware such reassurance, however sincere, sounded paltry with the dread that had crept into his tone as he processed all Gladio had told him. Gladio’s hands tightened uncomfortably around his arms and Ignis pressed on, knowing he needed to ask. “Gladio, in light of this, I have to ask—is there any mark whatsoever of the Starscourge upon you?”

Gladio let go of him immediately. Ignis almost reached after him, it was so sudden, yet the rustling of clothes told him Gladio was conducting a hasty but methodical inspection, understanding the cause of Ignis’ fear. As the rustling came to a halt, Gladio replied, “None.”

Ignis breathed a sigh of relief.

“I don’t think I was a daemon, really, not in the way people get turned,” Gladio said, “It was more like…magic, it felt like. Like Noct’s but less pure.”

“It makes one wonder,” Ignis said as they resumed their pace, carefully skirting the edges of a wide square that echoed with the sound of arachne spawn. “The Chancellor is abetted by grand powers and cannot be killed, beyond that he’s gifted with knowledge long before our time. A year ago he spoke of—”

“A year ago!?” Gladio said. “Shit that’s…I knew it was a while. You’ve changed too much for it not to be, but an entire year?” 

“And you’ve changed so little,” Ignis said with a quiet smile as he felt Gladio tug him over with a brief word about avoiding some rubble.

“Wait, you don’t think that magic has some kind of after effect, does it? I should be a year older, right?”

“If, in all this, you’ve been gifted with eternal youth, I’m sorry to say it’s quite lost on me,” Ignis said.

“Iggy.”

“Come now. I meant only to suggest that you seem no less yourself for all that’s passed. Nothing more or less.”

“But you’re different…”

“Of course I am. I’ve had a year to learn how to compensate for my vision—there’s still further progress to be made but there has been progress—and I’ve lived a year in a world without sun. Whether I can see it or not, that has taken its toll.”

“No sun?” Gladio whispered.

“No,” Ignis said. “It’s night now, but come morning, I understand it won’t be very different. Until Noct returns to us, we won’t feel dawn’s light again.”

“Right, so,” said Gladio, “how do we get him back?”

“For now? Heed the Chancellor’s words I suppose. Look into the royal tombs. The Glacian promised he was safe within the Crystal, but I doubt we shall hear from her again unless you decide to get yourself in further trouble.”

“Let’s avoid that,” Gladio grumbled.

“I’ve certainly lost all taste for fairy tales thanks to the Chancellor.”

“Is that what he was going on about?”

“He seems fond of them,” Ignis said, “I shouldn’t like to humour him any further.”

“Fine by me,” Gladio said, but Ignis barely registered his words as his ears caught the sound of something in the distance. Gladio for his part trailed off and moved to high alert. Ignis could hear sounds creeping up all around them, beastly and daemonic and even mechanical, it seemed.

“Iggy,” Gladio said, calling forth his broadsword to hand. “Ardyn’s little freak show is back. They’ve got us surrounded.”

“How many?” Ignis asked, gripping his daggers tightly. He could hear the beating of griffon wings, the whinnying of leukhorns, the snarling of sabertusks and the slithering of flans.

“Too many to count,” Gladio said. “Stay behind me and—”

“I’ll do no such thing,” Ignis said. “I may not have reached my former skill but ‘too many to count’ is not a number in the realm which your strength can see us through. If it’s between dying doing little and doing nothing, I’ll take the first, thank you.”

“You don’t get to die on me,” Gladio said pointedly. “But, side by side it is, if you want.”

“I suppose we could always pray to the Glacian,” Ignis said, tensing as he felt the daemon horde grow restless, the engine sounds drawing closer now, perhaps more of those rogue troopers he’d encountered on his journey in. Shapeless light suddenly flooded his eye, causing the daemons to scream louder and scatter as it probed around them.

“Hey, Iggy,” Gladio said, relief overtaking his voice.

“Is that a magitek engine above us?” Ignis said, the sound and heat of the thrusters reaching him clearly now that the daemons had been driven a little away.

“Get your asses on board, boys,” Aranea’s voice rang out in the square, “this is a one-stop rescue, blow it and we’re out.”

“Gladio! Ignis!” Prompto shouted from up next to her. Ignis supposed if Prompto was going to ignore orders it was just as well he did it so thoroughly. Enlisting Aranea was most fortunate.

“Our flying carpet awaits,” Ignis said over the sound of the thrusters.

“I thought you’d had enough of fairy tales,” Gladio said, pulling him over to where the aircraft hovered, not quite reaching the ground. 

“I make exceptions for happy endings,” Ignis said. Gladio lifted himself up onto the ramp and turned to take Ignis’ hands. Ignis let Gladio pull him up onto the lip of the hatch door. 

“I’ll give you all the happy endings you want,” Gladio promised slyly.

“Gladio, please.”

“Just sayin’, it’s not everyday you get heroically saved by a fairy tale prince—or noble, I guess—there’s gotta be some reward in it for ya.” 

“And it can wait,” Ignis smiled as the hatch door they stood on slowly began to close, forcing them to walk down to the mouth of the airship where Aranea and Prompto awaited them. “This is reward enough for now.” 

The airship took off as Prompto enthusiastically embraced them both and Aranea bade them a more sardonic welcome, and for a moment, having accomplished the journey set out before him and been welcomed back with what he sought for, Ignis allowed himself to just a little more hope, that this would not be the last such reunion in their tales yet to come.


End file.
